


and angels fall without you there

by copperiisulfate



Series: Castling [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperiisulfate/pseuds/copperiisulfate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She sets Totsuka’s earring on the bar top, next to Izumo’s third shot of Belvedere, and asks, “Can you do it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	and angels fall without you there

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of past character death, grief, and some graphic violence briefly.

  
  
Mikoto has been toying with the idea for hours now, much like she’s been reaching into her pocket for the piece of silver repeatedly, always after a quick jolt of panic that it might have slipped, fallen, that she’s lost it, until she can feel the cold curve of it between her fingers. It keeps happening to the point where she’s barely conscious of doing it and then catches herself.   
  
She figures this is probably the easier way of going about it when she sets Totsuka’s earring on the bar top, next to Izumo’s third shot of Belvedere, and asks, “Can you do it?”  
  
There’s a moment where Izumo looks surprised that Mikoto has kept it but it comes and goes in a flash. “If you can trust my eye-hand coordination at this hour, sure.” And then, thoughtful, “It’d suit you.”  
  
Mikoto doubts it. She could never pull off the silly hippie-chic look that Totsuka had her own way of turning into fashionable. She didn’t care for that and this wasn’t about that. It was a reminder she wanted solid in her skin: everything that was taken from her and everything she is now going to do about it.  
  
Izumo takes her time in getting her things ready and Mikoto might never stop marverling at the extent of her preparedness but her curiousity doesn’t extend to whatever else is stocked up back there. There’s rubbing alcohol, peroxide, cotton and some needles laid out on the table when she’s back. She’s pulling bobby pins out of her own hair and tucking Mikoto’s away from her face, pinning the strands up and away from her left side.

It’s only when she takes off her glasses, starts to prepare the spot on the helix of Mikoto’s ear, the same as Totsuka’s, that Mikoto catches the redness in and around her eyes. For a moment, there’s an impulse there. Mikoto thinks to touch her wrist, curl her fingers around it. There isn’t much they haven’t been through together and yet, none of it ever prepared them for this. She does nothing, watches Izumo work instead.

The cartilage is tough and the pinprick of pain is sharp at first but softens as the needle pushes through. Mikoto turns it over in her head, wants to feel it wash over her, thinks how it’s nothing at all like a bullet in your chest, like bleeding out of your mouth on to cold, cold concrete, can feel her fingernails digging into her palms and—  
  
“Done,” says Izumo. She takes the tie from around her wrist and gathers Mikoto’s hair to the other side. “Keep it away for a bit and don’t sleep on that side.”  
  
Mikoto wants to ask who said anything about her sleeping but Izumo definitely looks like she could use some. And it’s because Mikoto knows her that she also knows there’s not much chance of that happening with Mikoto wandering and smoking and drinking restlessly around the bar like she’s been doing up till now.  
  
Mikoto reaches for her wrist after all, squeezes it once. “Thanks,” she says. It’s dry in her mouth and feels infinitely inadequate.  
  
Izumo gives her a tired smile, lets her fingers catch Mikoto’s before waving it off. “S’ nothing, Boss.”

They both know how much she hates being called that, especially from Izumo and especially when it’s just them here and Mikoto’s about to grumble about it but Izumo’s not done.  
  
“Thought you’d like to know that we tracked down the gun. Well, Kamamoto and Dewa. Supplier’s in Shibuya.”  
  
“Good,” says Mikoto, touches the shell of her ear and ignores the wince on Izumo’s face. It’s still tender, a small, warm kind of pain. Good, she thinks. She’ll more than welcome the physical kind, the quiet burn like a sign that she’s still alive, still of some use then.  
  
Izumo touches Mikoto’s shoulder before packing up her makeshift kit. “'Least take a nap, yeah? We’ll move in the mornin' and they’ll all be there.”

Izumo will never come out and admit it but, over the years, Mikoto has picked up on how fatigue tends to make her accent thicker. It's the only reason Mikoto follows her away from the bar, a room that’s never felt emptier, and towards the stairs.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing as a bunch of fancomics have been floating around the internet with different takes on Mikoto's piercing, I wanted to give it a shot as well. And, y'know, try to deal with all my HOMRA founders feelings in the process.


End file.
